The appeal of darkness
by Tovarich
Summary: Arthur hated the world, he hated its people, their greed, their narcissism, their selfishness. They made him sick. If only he could get a companion, a partner in crime, someone who could see how disgusting this world was and accepted to help him cleanse the world from its worthless scum, everything would change.


Hi everyone! This was written for the USUKUS twice per year collection. Go check it out, there are amazing fanfictions and artworks! Here's the link : post/178978698591/uncommon-professions-a-collection-of-fanarts

warnings: Murder, suicide, dark depiction of main characters, major character death.

Arthur was working in his workshop. He carefully manipulated the molten glass with his tweezers, elongating it and turning it in any direction he wished. The glass obeyed seemingly without opposing any resistance. When it became too cold to be manipulated correctly, Arthur heated it up a bit before going back to work. His hands moved with slow dexterity, forcing the glass to adopt delicate intricate shapes, turning it into resplendent phials, colourful figurines or refined jewels. Saying he loved his job as a glassblower was an understatement. Creating such wonders out of bland glass by the power of his patient and precise hands always seemed amazing to him, even after all these years. His emerald green eyes shone with pride and satisfaction as he contemplated the detailed figurine he had crafted before putting it away to let it slowly cool down. He felt at ease in the smothering heat of his workshop. There, he didn't need to face the world, he was sheltered from its ugliness, away from its filthiness. Arthur hated the world, he hated its people, their greed, their narcissism, their selfishness. They made him sick. Nobody was good at heart, not even Arthur himself. He might even be the worst of them all. He simply despised life. For years, these feelings and thoughts had grown in his heart, filling it with their darkness. Oh, how he wished he could exterminate all those tiny, insignificant humans, make them writhe and scream in pain under his cold stare, make them beg for mercy as he laughed. But Arthur was a coward and despite all his accumulated hatred, he had never dared to take action. If only he could get a companion, a partner in crime, someone who could see how disgusting this world was and accepted to help him cleanse the world from its worthless scum, everything would change. There could be someone, Arthur mused, someone who wished to make the world a better place. But the charming American was too bright, too hopeful, too optimistic. He might be the only good person Arthur had ever met, the only one who possessed a pure heart. It would be a challenge to bring him into Arthur's murky, loathsome world. However, the more he thought about it, the most certain Arthur was. This was the person he needed. The one he had patiently waited for all this time. Him and no one else.

Arthur stepped out of the comfort of his shop and into the warmth of the summer night. The street was almost empty as the gas streetlights cast their soft light on the facades. He crossed the street at a slow pace, in an effort to look calm despite his quickly growing anxiety and entered the herbalist's shop. There, he was immediately greeted by Alfred's cheerful smile, the one that never failed to make him smile back.

"Alfred," Arthur said, "Will you go out with me tonight? There's something I want to show you." Guilt instantly suffocated him. He wanted Alfred to say yes, he wanted to drag him into the darkness. Yet, he hoped he'd say no, he hoped Alfred would remain sweet and innocent.

"Yes, of course! What time?" Alfred's smile almost made Arthur's heart physically hurt.

"I'll come back in two hours." Arthur replied in a neutral tone, already turning to leave.

And just like that, Arthur returned to his own shop and with a heavy conscience and a wicked smirk, he waited for the time to come.

Alfred was already waiting outside when Arthur came back and together, they walked towards the filthiest quarters of the town. He needed Alfred to see the worst of mankind to convince him. While they walked, Alfred talked enthusiastically, and Arthur listened with his mouth sealed and his brows furrowed. He loved the sound of Alfred's velvety voice. He could listen to him blabbering all day long. Listening to Alfred always cheered him up and calmed him down, and right now, he dearly needed it. The young man was always so proud of the new medicines he created by mixing plants and herbs, he loved healing people, relieving them from their pain. Actually, Arthur admired him for this, for his ability to always see the sunny side of every human being and his unending will to cure diseases and diminish suffering. But this time, Arthur needed his skills and support to get rid of the parasites crawling in every dirty street of the Earth.

They stopped when they reached a particularly dark alley full of debauched people. Drunkards, thieves and murderers. There, no streetlight illuminated the cobbled backstreet and the moonlight barely reached the ground between the shabby buildings. Now, Arthur would be able to show the young American that they all deserved to die.

"What do you see, dear?" Arthur whispered in Alfred's ear, earning himself a confused look from the younger man. "Don't be scared, just describe what's before your eyes."

Alfred took a deep breath, closing his eyes and opening them again slowly.

"People fighting, stealing, taking advantage of other's weakness." He swallowed his saliva in an attempt to reduce the dryness of his throat. "Arthur, why did you bring me here?"

Arthur grasped Alfred's shoulders and forced him to turn around, so the two men were facing each other.

"We could get rid of them all. You and me, we could make this world better." Arthur replied with a manic grin as he cupped Alfred's cheeks.

Alfred took a step back, looking distressed.

"You're frightening me. I heal people, Arthur, I don't kill them! And you're a glassblower, not a murderer." He took Arthur's hand in his, squeezing them as he continued to talk. "Your hands are made to create beauty, not to spill blood. Arthur, please." Alfred desperately begged, looking into Arthur's impassive eyes.

"To make the world better, we need to start by annihilating all those people who spread their vices in the streets. Can't you see that to allow beautiful flowers to bloom we need to get rid of the weeds first?"

Alfred shook his head, looking afraid, distraught and disgusted.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this. You're insane, Arthur." He tried to run away, but Arthur gripped his arm before he could.

"I know I'm asking a lot, love. I know it's hard, but I need your help." Arthur breathed against Alfred's neck. When Alfred didn't answer, Arthur growled between clenched teeth. "We are told that humanity is progressing. They only have one word on their tongues, all of them. Progress, progress, progress. Where do you see progress, Alfred? Do you see happy people, content with their useless lives, without a care in the world? I only see vultures and rats chasing frightened mice and insects." Alfred's lips remained sealed, and even though Arthur couldn't look at Alfred's face, he knew hot tears were rolling down his cheeks. He squeezed Alfred's hand. "Let me show you how we can make it all better, how to relieve the innocents from the fear of being attacked by those vile souls roaming the streets. You'll heal the good-hearted ones and I'll keep on creating gorgeous things out of glass. And together, we'll exterminate the monsters."

Alfred turned around to stare into the Brit's acidic green eyes. He shivered as he fell into their bottomless well of hatred and despair. There was no light in them, not a single glimmer of hope. Only an impenetrable night, enveloping him in dreadfully cold arms. And as he fell into the abyss, he understood the appeal of darkness. Alfred sought shelter in Arthur's welcoming arms, and when their lips met, Arthur knew he had won. Still, how bitter was the taste of victory.

During the past few weeks, the two men had got into the habit of meeting at night at Arthur's or Alfred's apartment above their shops. The young American still had doubts about the rightness of their project. But Arthur was always quick to silence him with a kiss and a promise. That night they had decided to put their plan into action. For that purpose, Arthur had crafted a few beautiful phials, finely ornate but easy to hide and to uncap. Meanwhile, Alfred had tried various mixtures before finally finding the most efficient one in a thick book he had found on one of his bookshelves. The man they had chosen as their first victim, Joseph Steiner, was a corrupted politician. A despicable man deprived of any morals who only valued money and power. In the past years, he had stopped at nothing. Corruption, intimidation, rape, assassination. Anything to achieve his selfish goals. How many widows and orphans had he made, how many families ruined, how much anger, sadness and desperation had he caused in all those years? Too much to count. Arthur could see the hatred in Alfred's eyes when he heard that name, and that was the reason why he had chosen this man. He wanted his companion to feel satisfied of their first kill, he wanted him to feel righteous. He had promised Alfred that when that greedy pig was gone, the world would already be slightly better. And this wasn't a lie, to some extent it was true. Even though another filthy human was probably going to replace him soon, killing him wouldn't be useless, and less evil would be done, at least for some time. Arthur had met Alfred at the herbalist's shop, but when the time came to pour the poisonous decoction in the little phial, Alfred's hands shook so much he could hardly hold the beaker. Arthur put a reassuring hand over his wrist and smiled at him comfortingly. With a kiss on his cheek, he gently took the beaker from the herbalist's shaky hands and poured the pale purple liquid in the vial.

"How can you be so calm about this? How can you seem so serene while knowing what we're about to do?" Alfred choked, lifting his cerulean eyes towards the ceiling to calm his nerves.

"Shhh, it's alright, don't worry. It's perfectly normal to be nervous." Arthur took Alfred's shoulders in his hands and rubbed soothing circles on them. This didn't seem to work, for Alfred shot him a glare before pulling away, nearly knocking the gas lamp in the process.

"Why aren't you nervous at all then? You enjoy doing this, don't you?" He was screaming, some phrases were only incoherent words and bits of sentences. He breathed heavily, gesticulating angrily while shouting at Arthur before crumbling down and falling on the ground. With his head in his hands he muttered pathetically. "I can't do this Arthur, I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Arthur felt guilty. He had felt this way ever since that fateful night and the feeling wouldn't disappear. If only he could go back in time, he would. But it was impossible and now it was too late to turn back and give everything up. They had to do this, and he had to convince Alfred.

"We are doing this, Alfred." He said in a soothing voice. "I know it's hard, but there's no other way. I wish we didn't have to resort to such extreme measures, but we have no choice. I need your help to achieve this. I can't make the world better on my own and you're the only one who can help me. I know you don't want to do this, but you're a hero Alfred, and sometimes, to do the right thing you have to commit acts you'd rather never had done. I'm sorry I have to ask this of you, but we'll do this together. I won't ever leave you alone Alfred, I promise." Arthur noticed Alfred had stopped crying. This was good, he couldn't stand the sound of Alfred's sobs. They broke his heart and reminded him that there wasn't a single once of goodness in him.

Alfred nodded before he slowly stood up and pushed his glasses on his nose. He looked colder now, a bit less optimistic, a bit less human. A bit more like Arthur. The darkness had swallowed him.

Arthur entered in the crowded hall where the party took place, threading his way between the guests. He paid them no attention, his eyes were fixed on his prey as he slowly walked. With his impeccable suit and slicked-back hair, he went unnoticed among the rich men and women gathered in the room. Nobody really saw him, nobody would remember him. He was nothing more than a ghost. Finally, he found Steiner, standing among a few gests with a glass of wine in his hand. The man was laughing, with red cheeks and sweat pooling on his forehead. Arthur felt disgust flooding him at his sight. He stood a few feet away from his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, for the time when Steiner would be left alone and vulnerable. That moment always came, one only had to be patient and attentive, and Arthur was both. With cold eyes, he surveyed the party hall. As predicted, no one paid attention to him, everyone was blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. It had been easy to enter here, a lot easier than Arthur had thought. It almost disappointed him, there was no challenge if his victim was served to him on a sliver plate. After some time, Arthur's patience was rewarded. He discreetly approached the man and told him a few words to get his attention. Steiner turned around, putting his glass down on a small table on his right and focusing on the man in front of him. The conversation the two men shared consisted of uninteresting flattery and platitudes, nothing worth remembering. In fact, Arthur didn't even pay the slightest attention to what Steiner or even himself were saying. He took the phial out of his pocket and easily uncapped it with his thumb and index fingers. Steiner turned his head away when he heard his name being called, exchanging a smile with a man a few meters away. This was the perfect occasion for Arthur and he wasn't going to throw his chance away. When Joseph Steiner turned back towards Arthur, he was already gone, as if he had never even been there.

Of course, Arthur would have been delighted to stay and witness the result of his action. He would have loved to see this man he hated writhe in pain on the floor, to see him gasp for breath and convulse, to look at the ugly grimace of dread and agony that would distort his fat face as life left his eyes. But this wouldn't have been reasonable, it was far too dangerous. Arthur had taken a risk though, a calculated one, of course. On a table, he had left the empty phial. It looked gorgeous in the subdued light, like a crystal in a pile of garbage. In that moment, Arthur realised how poetic what he did with Alfred was. A lethal poison extracted from a pretty flower, perfection in the art of giving death, in a delicate jewel made of glass. The epitome of evil and elegance, condensed in a single phial. This was a sign; They were on the right way. What they did was good, fair and beautiful. With renewed confidence in the justice of their actions, Arthur promptly went back to his home.

After that night, after their first murder, Alfred still smiled brightly. He still strived to make the world a better place, to heal people and make them happier, but no doubt subsisted when it came to their mission. He dutifully helped Arthur, pushing away his feelings and considering their victims' lives as meaningless. Killing those immoral pigs was good and there was no need for remorse. For a few weeks, they didn't commit any new murder. The thrill of the first one and the excitement of finally having put their plan into action sustained them. But there were still filthy souls out there that needed to be taken care of. Arthur and Alfred both knew that, and with renewed vigour, they eliminated those corrupted men and women almost every night. And every time, Arthur left the little phial as a silent witness of their deed. Corpses heaped up in a nauseating pile of putrid flesh, and they reigned on this empire of death. Glorious, victorious. Two morbid monarchs, bringing devastation and decay to this miserable world. Hearing the crazy rumours that spread in the streets about the mysterious killer was exhilarating. People couldn't stop blabbering about the murders, putting forward the wildest suppositions, but they had no idea who really did that. Nobody knew the identity of the killer, not the police, not the possible witnesses, not the journalists. For now, they remained unreachable, silent ghosts roaming the streets in search of fresh blood to spill. But they were standing on a cliff, and they both knew any misplaced step could lead them down the steep ravine. However, the proximity of the danger, the feeling of being all-powerful, out of reach, it was intoxicating. They were becoming reckless, too reckless. They knew it, they felt the danger, they felt fear creeping under their skin, and they loved it. Alfred and Arthur had no doubt that they would get caught in the end, it was unavoidable. But it didn't stop them. On the contrary, they kept on assassinating the corrupted and the vile who crawled in gutters or danced in richly decorated halls.

Despite their actions and to Arthur's relief, Alfred's heart had remained pure. His soul had darkened, he had lost his unconditional optimism, but he hadn't become cruel or ruthless. Artur knew that Alfred was doing this because he thought it was the only way to achieve his goal, to finally make the world better, to make people happier. And with each kiss they shared, Arthur silently asked for forgiveness for his actions, for his deceit. The world would never become a better place, because humans were greedy by nature and pure souls were rare and precious. Nevertheless, Alfred was always conscientious when he was concocting the poison they would need. Once Arthur had been watching Alfred prepare the mixture. The herbalist's brows were furrowed in concentration and he was biting his lower lip. When the potion was done, he turned to Arthur with a satisfied smile.

"It'll kill a man in a few hours, maybe even less." He had said in a darkly enthusiastic tone.

Arthur only nodded and offered a small smile, his bushy eyebrows knitted in a deep scowl. Something was wrong with Alfred, he knew it. He could feel it in the air around them. And just as he thought that, Alfred turned around a took another beaker from his table. This one contained a darker liquid.

"This one is much stronger though." Alfred continued, as if he had never stopped talking. "It can kill a human in an hour or maybe even less. I'm keeping it for a special occasion. Just in case, you know." He said that with a forced smile, trying and failing to look nonchalant. Arthur could almost literally smell his fear and concern.

He sighed and took Alfred's round cheeks in his palms in a comforting gesture.

"If anything happens, we'll still be together. Don't worry, you'll never be alone, I won't leave you alone. I promised, didn't I?" Alfred closed his eyes, relaxing a bit at Arthur's touch.

Alfred then took Arthur's hand in his own and led him to his table where beautiful purple flowers were scattered on the wooden surface.

"Don't you think it's ironic, Arthur, that such a lethal poison can be extracted from a flower so pleasant to the eye? I love those flowers. In a sense, they remind me of you." He murmured before placing a kiss on Arthur's dry lips.

One night, Arthur was in his workshop, working on glass. He was making two identical phials he had designed earlier. They were going to be magnificent, even more gorgeous than anything he had ever created before. He knew why he was making them, but he wasn't ready to consciously admit it, so he told himself that it was only because of a mysterious impulsion, a strong desire to create something beautiful after being confronted to too much ugliness. Arthur dipped the blowpipe into the furnace to gather some glass on its end. He then put the other end in a bucket filled with cold water before bringing it to his mouth and blowing into it. A bubble formed in the glass and he could start shaping it as he wanted. He gave the glass an elongated form, the phial would be slim and curvy, elegant, like a butterfly. His slim fingers manipulated the glass with practiced ease, his slow and precise movements gave it the right shape. He then added cobalt oxide to the melted glass in the furnace to tint it in a deep blue colour. With this coloured glass he created a sophisticated pattern on the phial, his emerald eyes carefully fixed on his work. After that, he added chromic oxide to the rest of the glass and did the same thing, intertwining lines of emerald green with cerulean blue. Arthur's eyes shone with pride and delight, a joyful smile gracing his features as he looked at his creation. This was the definition of perfection, true beauty, created by the hand of a man. And soon these graceful vials would contain the best poison Alfred had ever created, the result of months of arduous research to reach the apogee of his art. This would be their final masterpiece.

And they had been right to prepare for the moment they both knew would inexorably come, for their downfall happened sooner than they had expected. They both knew demise had been lurking in the dark since the beginning, its shadow crawling closer to them each day. They were running against their fate; their defeat was unavoidable. Perhaps, they had felt that the end was near, but couldn't consciously recognise it. Perhaps, they had been two blinded by the blood they shed each night to notice the cold and heavy atmosphere that enveloped them like an impenetrable fog. Perhaps they had been too afraid or too confident. They only realised that the ineluctable end had arrived when death was knocking on their door. They had gathered at Arthur's apartment to plan their next assassination when it happened. Angry voices shouting threats and insults in the street below, heavy fists pounding on the wooden door, stones throwed at the window. The walls were shaking under the wrath of the crowd. However, Arthur wasn't scared. They still had some time ahead; the heavy wooden door wouldn't break so easily. He calmly took the beaker in which Alfred had prepared the poison and poured it into the two vials he had crafted earlier. He then turned towards Alfred, whose handsome features were contorted in a tortured expression, his blurry eyes fixed on the ground. When Arthur held the phial out to him, he looked at Arthur with a hesitant expression, making no move to take it.

"Would you rather die as a free man, here, with me, or spend your last moments living like a rat in a cold and damp prison cell, counting down the days to your execution? The choice is yours. I already took my decision." Arthur said, his tone harsher than he had intended.

Alfred looked at him, terror clouding his vision. When he spoke, his voice could hardly be heard over the roaring of the crowd.

"I'm scared, Arthur, I don't know what to do. I don't want to die."

Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand, holding it firmly. With his free hand he gently took the young herbalist's cheek in his palm.

"Don't worry, I'm by your side. You see, our fingers are intertwined, and they'll stay that way." A gentle smile spread on his lips as he spoke.

Arthur took one of the phials from the table where he had put them. He uncapped it and waited for Alfred to do the same before bringing it to his mouth. They looked each other in the eyes as they drank the purple poison. Their fate was now sealed. The reality of this hit Alfred. He felt like he was drowning, gasping for air as his lungs hurt and his head began to spin. And he didn't know if this was due to panic or to the poison.

As the pounding on the door intensified, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's shaky shoulders, trying to soothe his panic and calm his sobs. In the back of his mind, Alfred started wondering how the older man could always remain so calm in such situations, but soon decided that it didn't matter. As he was pressed more tightly against his lover's warm body, the young man screwed his eyes shut and started mumbling a prayer he used to say when he was scared at night as a child. He felt a warm breath caressing his ear and comforting hands rubbing circles on his back.

"Don't waste your breath. There's no redemption for our souls, dearest." He heard Arthur say in a quiet voice. Strangely, Alfred didn't feel any desperation as he heard the words. He felt at ease, knowing that Arthur was by his side, that his slender arms were tightly wrapped around him, that his voice could still reach him and soothe him. Everything was alright. Arthur didn't need to add 'I'll be by your side in hell', because Alfred already knew it. Arthur had promised to never leave him, and he trusted the glassblower more than he trusted himself. He wasn't choking anymore, for he knew now, that everything was always going to be alright. He felt so weak, so tired, but he wasn't scared anymore. He looked into Arthur's confident emerald eyes, finding comfort and reassurance in their strength. And as their lips locked in an eternal kiss, they both closed their eyes. Revelling in each other's presence as the world became cold and black.


End file.
